Raging Hearts, Revision
by nwilson1
Summary: Drakken poisons Kim. The world is his oyster, until an ally betrays him, trying to weaponize Shego's glow. Kim fakes her pending death, saves Shego, letting Drakken and the world think they're dead. From the shadows, Kim amasses family, friends, & enemies against a new global threat, one created by G.J. Can she stop SX-7, saving her family and the world? (Spoiler, characters die).
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** Kim Possible and all associated characters portrayed and/or implied inside this fanfict belong solely unto Walt Disney Productions.

Drakken strolled through yet another demolished lab. He couldn't believe the devastation. Walls and ceilings caved in. Smoldering rubble lying atop itself burying billions more in assets. All lost within mere seconds. History repeating itself.

Billions in assets lost within seconds. History repeating itself, yet again. Every piece of rubble only mocked him more sorely than ever. His once teen nemesis had grown into a formidable young adult adversary. She had a penchant for destruction and lived to make his life miserable.

Shego showed no mercy. He teased him sorely, time and time again, arguing, "Your plans always fail, because you overthink them".

He couldn't envision how. His plans were so simple, at least on paper. Shego kidnapped 16 prominent IT programmers, specifically knowledgeable in international commerce exchange systems. He didn't aim to tap into NASDAQ or the NYSE. Even he knew that'd draw too much attention.

No, he aimed a little lower, but still high enough to make the endeavor worthwhile. He intended on coercing his chipped programmers to tap into lesser monitored, 3rd and 4th degree, privatized markets, not readily accessible by the public. He could've used various accounts, under various aliases, strewn across the globe, mimicking top traders, bankers, brokers, CEOs, and other billionaires.

His ROI wouldn't been limitless. Plus, it was doubtful the FTC would've ever caught onto his scheme, that is unless their tech geeks uncovered his hook into the exchange system. Then, again, even if they did, Drakken was positive, they'd never trace this deal back unto him. He'd take every precaution he could imagine.

And yet, she'd traced him somehow. His obvious suspect was Dr. Wade Load, a 14-year-old genius with six Ph.D.s, who served as Mrs. Sunshine's systems administrator and field operations coordinator. It didn't take long. His techs confirm what he'd suspected all along.

Dr. Load hadn't warned Sunshine about his latest operation. Drakken knew then, she'd recruited help outside her usual team. But, who? That was the $10 million question. His tech couldn't tap Wade's state-of-the-art systems. If detected, it'd expose their investigation into Team Possible's recent activities.

Hence, they tapped into his fiberoptic cable and monitored his web searches and communications with Team Possible in the field and other allies he turned to for help in given situations. His people had Kim Possible and her team under 24/7 surveillance. She couldn't make a move without them knowing it, or so they thought.

She showed up at his latest lair without warning, kept Shego occupied fighting, like usual, while her buffoon rescued his 'recruited' IT staff then blew up his mainframe, unintentionally setting off a chain reaction, which ultimately leveled his entire lab. Most henches made it out alive, leaving a few buried in a smoldering grave.

Either way, the negative publicity exposed his plot. Wall-Street's programming wizards developed security patches to prevent anyone else in the future from exploiting these holes in their systems. That'd been 2-months ago. He'd only partially recouped his losses.

It wasn't easy with FCC, FBI, and Global Justice warrants hanging over their heads. Drakken leaves this devastation behind returning unto his current lair, one, where Kim Possible nor Global Justice would ever think to look. He plans his ultimate revenge against his 'grown up' nemesis.

Helping 'Under' Hand

He debates how to make her pay the dearest. Killing her crossed his mind. Oh, yes, he relished this thought. But, no, killing her outright was too easy. It'd be done and over with to quickly. He wanted her to suffer. And yet, torture wasn't really his thing.

Such tactics were too messy, and risky. There was always a chance, even years in the future, forensics could link this crime back to him. He didn't relish always looking over his shoulder. No, he'd rather be more subtle approach.

An hour later, he still hadn't come up with anything devious enough to satisfy his thirst of vengeance. Drakken does what he always does in these frustrating situations. He logs onto HenchCo's dark web trolling for inspiration.

An invitation chat box request pops up on his computer screen. He'd spoke with **Bassett-Hound-666**. He didn't have a clue who he/she was. Then, again, he didn't have anything better to do. Drakken clicks ACCEPT logging into a private chatroom.

His mysterious 'friend' bypasses usual introductions condescending, "I see you're having problems with your nemesis".

Drakken was so frustrated. He doesn't stop and ask the obvious question. He just needed an open ear to vent some of his frustrations. "Yes, yes, I am," Drakken types into his terminal.

"What's your problem with your nemesis?" Bassett-Hound-666 nudges Drakken in a certain direction.

"My nemesis always shows up when I least expect, regardless how many precautions I take, thwarts my latest plan, and usually levels my lair's in utter shambles before leaving. I tell you, it's getting way too expensive losing so damn much".

"He/she must be good," Bassett-Hound ruffles Drakken's feathers. "What's his/her name?"

"Kim Possible," he deadpans, sighing heavily.

"I've heard of her," **Bassett-Hound-666** lies to build some rapport. "She's thwarted a couple of my best plans, costing me millions in revenue. I want payback, too. Why don't we team up and exact mutual revenge against our nemeses?"

Drakken seriously considers this proposal. He wanted revenge against Kim Possible. And his usual methods proved ineffective. He thinks, maybe with a fresh approach he could achieve where he'd failed in the past. And yet, Shego was the wildcard making him second-guess this alliance. She didn't play well with others. She'd already threatened to quit twice. He didn't wish to break up his evil family.

Basset-Hound-666 discerns his hesitation. He wasn't taking her bait. She bruises his male ego more asking, "Something wrong?"

"No," he falters, embarrassed to admit the truth. "Maybe?"

Bassett-Hound-666 pricks his pride teasing, "Oh, I get it, your partner doesn't play well with others, does she?"

Drakken growls under his breath. He discerns what this fellow meant. Who wore the pants in this little family? Him? Or her? He asserts his manhood snapping, "She isn't my partner?"

"Then, what's the problem? You're the boss. Either she listens or leaves. It's that simple. Are you a man? Don't you have any backbone?"

Drakken arches his back typing, "I have ample backbone, thank you very much".

"You do?" She challenges his manhood, "Then, prove it. Join me in ending this nemesis' long reign of terror. It's her vile shadows driving away your employee. She's ashamed to be associated with a looser".

Her words stung deep. He'd never been so emasculated. Drakken resolves, he's the boss. And yet, he always does things _**her**_ way: when, where, and how _she wants_. Not anymore! "What do you have in mind, My Nefarious Ally?"

"Do you recall Lil' Diablo, Doctor?" She grabs his undivided attention.

"Do I ever," he condescends.

She reprograms his thinking slightly asking him, "Why'd you fail, Doctor?"

"Kim Possible..."

He falls back into his old way of thinking. "Don't blame her for your own failures," she reproves him sharply. "Accept your own blame".

These words stung deeper than every, but were what he needed to hear. For once, he saw everything so clear, clearer than he had in many, many years. "I failed, because I distracted Kim Possible, but left her do-gooder network intact".

"Excellent deduction skills, Doctor," she flatters him, but ups the ante. "What do we do next?"

"I don't know," he types, hanging his head in shame.

Basset-Hound-666 tapped into lair surveillance watching his every move. "Don't be disheartened, Doctor. I know what must be done".

Wrinkle In The Plan

"What?"

"Break into **Mandrake Bio-Research Inc.** ," she lays out the first steps in her revenge plan. "Pretend you're gonna steal more **Emmio-7 mutagen**. The redhead will show up, like always. Only, this time, we'll be waiting".

"I'm all ears," he leans in closer, latching onto every word crossing his screen.

Bassett-Hound-666 reveals the most diabolical part of her plan, "We douse her with chemicals and flee. Problem solved".

"If I do that, Shego will kill me…" He second-guesses this plan, preferring good health over revenge.

"Shego?" She recognizes his henchwoman's name. "Ex-Team Go member? That Shego?"

"Plasma, super strength, and agility, yea," he lets her know why he fears her so much. "She can be quite cruel when crossed. She, however, does have her own unique eccentricities".

"Like?" Bassett-Hound-666 shapes her plan around Shego's moral code.

"She may break an arm, maybe even cripple an opponent, but would never kill Kim Possible or anyone else. Plus, it pains me to admit this, even over the internet. I've lost so much. She's lost confidence in me. She insists on planning every heist. I come up with a world domination plan. She evaluates its likelihood to succeed, then gives her inputs on how to improve my otherwise brilliant plan".

"Go ahead, let her plan the **Mandrake** job," **Basset-Hound-666** eases his nerves. "It won't alter our plans one bit. In fact, I've factored her sensibilities into my plan".

"How?"

"I've studied your HenchCo profile while chatting. Shego and your nemesis' tactics are predictable at best. Kim Possible will fight your henchwoman, while her blonde boob and his 'pet rat' thwart you. Isn't that about how your heists go?"

"Yes," Drakken watches the screen speechlessly.

"You just proved what I said. Your nemesis is predictable at best. I say, let's use this predictability against these do-gooders".

"How?" Drakken starts to take notes, like her plan better.

Bassett-Hound-666 lays out her plan in greater detail, "The redhead will wail on your henchwoman. That is what Shego will expect".

"Yes," Drakken nods.

"We can agree on this much. Good," she presses the next stage. "You rush back into the room then douse the redhead with everything in your hands, except the **Emmio-7 mutagen vial**. Your henchwoman will protest, but play the bumbler like she expects. Tell her, you only panicked, worried about her safety".

"I'll do it," his eyes light up with sadistic euphoria, wrenching together his palms.

"I hope we speak again soon, Doctor, maybe in person, if this partnership works out," Basset-Hound-666 logs off her terminal.

Basset-Hound-666 was **Diamonique Rose's** online ID on HenchCo's Dark Web. She'd hooked into her pawn's lair. Now, she must contact her newest boss, **Necros**.

 **Gama Rose** didn't know her boss' real identity. She'd probably kill him or at least try if she knew. Gemini ran **Necros** , a subsidiary of WEE, under the alias, **Arlin Helion**. Her boss picks up on the 3rd ring. A modulated voice inquires, "Did he buy our plan?"

"Hook, line, and sinker, Master".

"Good," Gemini glows ruefully. "Keep that blue idiot happy. I want my subject within the month. Fail and you'll pay the ultimate price. Do we understand one another, Gama Rose?"

"Positively, Master," she bows towards his 3D projection. "Shego will be yours within the month".

"We'll see," he signs off.

Raving Elation

Drakken exits his lair. He recollects every miserable detail about Lil' Diablo. He wouldn't make the same mistake again. If done right, he wouldn't have to touch his nemesis or her friends. They'd do his dirty work for him. He starts to cackle hollering, "Shego!"

"Yea," she tromps down the stairs into the main area, "what do you want?"

"I know how we can beat Kim Possible this time?"

"How?" She snips, folding her arms.

He wouldn't let her pessimism ruin his triumph, "I simply need **Emmio-7** and a few..."

"Oh, no, forget it!" Shego shakes her head defiantly walking away. "You're not cloning me, Doc. Read my lips, 'No, clones! Absolutely! Positively! No exceptions!'"

"I have no intentions of cloning you," he assures his nervous henchwoman.

He'd lied before. Why should now be any different? She lights both palms, getting her point across, lie and he'd pay dearly. She gives him the benefit of the doubt asking, "What do you have in mind?"

"Let's just say. I now realize why Lil' Diablo failed".

"And why's that?" Shego asks with a sinking feeling.

"I distracted Kim Possible, but left the rest of her little do-gooder network intact. I've learnt from my mistakes. This time, they'll do our dirty work _**for us**_ ".

Shego couldn't believe her ears. She realized, this wasn't a hairbrained scheme he'd come up with at the last possible second. He'd actually put some time and thought into this crusade. "What do you need, Doc?" Shego was all in.

"A few chemicals from **Mandrake Bio-Research, Inc**.".

"Princess is in college now, and cash strapped. I can set up a few dummy accounts in her name, link them through our old accounts G.J. monitors regularly. I'll keep her busy fighting. You hit her and her buffoon with the knockout gas. We can make a clean getaway. She and the buffoon will take the blame as our lookouts".

"I love it," Drakken smiles, concealing him ulterior plan.

Call To Action

Kim, meantime, was lounging at home watching cartoons with her brothers. They may be geniuses, but even they couldn't resist reruns of Dexter's Laboratory. Her kimmunicator beeps halfway through the _Mountain Mandark_ episode. She bolts off the sofa easing into the kitchen, "Go ahead, Wade".

Drakken didn't escape arrest like he'd thought. Global Justice lacked viable assets within the villain community. Dr. Director inserted an asset among HenchCo's henches. Drakken hired her undercover agent. He may be an idiot. Drakken would get her foot inside the villain community, unbeknownst to him. That's why G.J. had left him alone, thus far.

"Kim," he relays what G.J.'s inside man passed along, " **Shego** and **Drakken** left their lair about 15-minutes ago. **Crimson Fox** , G.J.'s plant, elaborated, they're head towards **Mandrake Bio-Research, Inc.** , to steal **Emmio-7** , a bio-mutagen necessary for creating clones and synthodrones. Be careful, this could be a trap. You know how wily foxes can be".

"Where's Ron?"

"At home".

"Why isn't he online for this mission briefing".

"You know Ron, well...," Wade select his words carefully, not wishing to alienate her, but not really overly concerned. Ron was always childish and unpredictable. "His wrist kimmunicator could be off or gotten damaged during your last mission".

"I'll give him my spare, just in case," she informs the tech genius. "Could you contact his landline and have him waiting outside his house on me? Oh, and could you replace my spare kimmunicator?"

"Will do, Kim".

"Thank Wade, you rock," she taps her wrist kimmunicator hanging up. She opens the refrigerator, pours herself a tall glass of milk. She downs his content within 2-seconds flat. She races upstairs and into her closest changing into her mission gear

She dashes back downstairs and out the front door. She jumps into Annie, turns over the ignition, and back out. She throws her car into drive peeling down her urban street. Kim screeches up besides the curb outside Ron's house.

He wasn't waiting outside by the curb, like she'd asked. Kim fumes. He'd grown increasingly distant and flighty lately. She revs her engine and honks her horn several times to get his attention. The front door swings open upon its rusty hinges. Ron darts outside slamming the door shut behind.

Annie detects his approach auto-opening the front passenger door. Ron slides inside buckling his safety belt. "Sorry, I wasn't outside. Mom needed some last-minute help".

"Don't worry, I'm not mad," she lies, leaning in closer but stops noticing lipstick on his collar. And it wasn't hers or his mother's shade. She pecks his right cheek hiding her furor behind a smile. She throws Annie into gear gunning the engine. Her tail section slide sideways leaving nothing but rubber behind.

"Whoa," Ron grabs the dash. "Where's the fire, KP?"

"Wade briefed you".

"Yea," he answers brusquely avoiding direct eye contact.

Ron was a terrible liar. He always acted like this when hiding something he feels could endanger their relationship. It'd only gotten worse since they started dating. His aberrant behavior and lipstick painted a disturbing picture in her mind. "We certainly don't want a repeat of Lil' Diablo, Ron," she hides her stupor behind her mission face.

She didn't do a very good job. Deception wasn't really her thing. Ron shivers under her icy tone. It'd suddenly gotten colder in mid-July. "Sure thing, KP," he dismisses her crispness unto her period, and felt, she'd work out her frustrations while fighting Shego.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** Kim Possible and all associated characters portrayed and/or implied inside this fanfict belong solely unto Walt Disney Productions.

Unsettling Silence

15-minutes. Kim and Ron rode in tense silence. Neither dared speak.

Ron feared, if he opened his mouth, he'd say or do something, which could inevitably mess up his big surprise. There was something he'd wanted to ask his partner/best friend for nearly a year now.

Kim, meanwhile, didn't really pay him any attention. Her mind weighted down with her own worries. They'd started to date nearly 3-1/2-years ago. Having known each other since Pre-K, she thought she knew Ron better than anyone else alive.

Then, she caught her 'Prince Charming' in little 'white lies'. Oh, they were small at first. Maybe she shouldn't have, but she let them slide. His lies only snowballed from there. It started with him being late for school, missing their date nights, forgetting to check in, small things.

Of course, she confronted him. Again, he refused to divulge the truth, choosing rather to lie. She spoke with her girlfriends at school and old classmates, all who knew Ron, too. Every girlfriend issued the same warning, 'Girl, the handwriting is on the wall. He's cheating on you'.

Her heart didn't want to believe he'd betray her trust. And yet, her mind couldn't deny how unreliable he'd become lately. The repetitive lies didn't make this battle of trust any easier. Ron may be cheating. A million names and faces race through her mind. Yori's topping her list.

Ron just sat in the passenger seat studying his girlfriend's micro-expressions. He hoped it'd give him a clue as to what was really bothered her. Why'd she been so moody and withdrawn lately? Her tone was cold enough. This silence grew crisper and more daunting by the moment.

Kim, though, didn't mind the silence. 'Common sense' said, end this now before you get hurt any worse. He's a player. And yet, her heart argued something different. Kim meditated on what it had to say, reflecting on reasons why their relationship was worth saving. Even she had to admit, however. She grew more uncomfortable under his 'watchful eye'.

Luckily, that would end soon enough.

 **Mandrake Bio-Research, Inc.** , come into view. She slams on brakes and cuts her steering wheel sharply. Her car skids into a full 180-degree turn. Her front bumper pointed back the way they'd came. Kim jumps out without warning. She triple-taps her kimmunicator activating her armor. Slim-fitting nano armor slinks over her body, head to toe.

"I have your back, KP," Ron jumps out behind her.

"Let's pray so, Ron," she snips, brows furrowed and mouth curled in betrayal. The duo approaches the corporation's entrance. Kim observes the smashed tempered glass doors. Glass shards strewn everywhere. Edges charred, no doubt, scorched by boiling plasma.

Kim steps inside, followed closely by her partner. She taps her wrist kimmunicator, "Wade, where are they?"

"22nd floor, Section 4, Lab G-3, Kim".

"Any security measures we should be concerned about?"

"None," he slurps his 36-oz Coca-Cola.

"Wade, this place has Pentagon grade security," Ron wouldn't call that nothing.

"Had Pentagon grade security," Wade stipulates the past tense. "Shego disabled everything, before she and Drakken headed towards the climate control Lab G3, Section 4, on the 22nd floor".

Ron nods, reaching for the elevator's up button.

Kim grabs his hand, "No, that'd only warn them faster we're coming".

"How'll we..."

She points towards the stairs with a devilish smirk.

Ron perceives, whatever he'd done, she took delight in making him walking up 22 flights of stairs.

"Wade, Stairwell C's door, please".

The tech wiz smiles, hands flying across his keyboard. The stairwell alarm disarms and red-light panel flash green. She opens the door rushing upstairs, skipping two and three steps per stride. Ron was hot on her heels.

So We Meet Again

Kim exits Stairwell C, not even waiting on Ron, turns right, and rushes down a long narrow hallway. She'd just entered bio-engineering labs, Section 4.

Annie detects surging power levels auto-activating Kim's shield. Lab G3's outer wall explodes with such force. The blast bowls them over scattering chunks of concrete, metallic shards, and other debris roundabout them.

Kim drops her shield, leaps back onto her feet, and drops into a fighting stance.

"Nice move, Princess," Shego flatters, only to degrade her opponent. "Sorry, though, that pathetic stance isn't enough".

"Get her," she yells.

Ten henches shimmer into open view.

"Don't worry, KP, I have your back," Ron takes a stance alongside his best friend.

All henches arms their stun batons moving towards them.

"You stop Shego," Ron enjoins her. "I'll handle these washed up henches". He takes one step. His pants fall down around his ankles.

Every hench stops cold and cracks up laughing hard and mocking him sorely over wearing Batman boxer briefs into battle.

Kim groans inwardly wondering, 'What mystical monkey master can't keep his own pants up? Was this all an act? Was he afraid of upstaging her? Either way, his buffoonery provided the distraction she'd so desperately needed.

Shego follows Drakken towards the stairwell leading unto their waiting hover car on the roof. She stops hearing the wily redhead slap both palms together barely turning in time to observe.

Kim deploys an expandable 30-inch, 3-cm thick scarlet red Escrima fighting cane. She activates her suit's special acceleration shoes sprinting into action.

Ron knew better than interrupt Kim's playtime. He pulls up his pants fastening his belt. He gets busy zip-tying the unconscious henches' hands behind their backs.

"Shego, let's go," Drakken screams over his shoulder.

Kim delivers quick, precise blows rendering every hench unconscious within seconds.

"I can't, Princess..." A mighty blow impacts her right cheek cutting her off mid-sentence. Shego soars back plowing headfirst into a solid marble wall.

Shego rolls over, partially dazed but definitely not ko'ed. "Oh," she stalls with a little banter until getting her bearing again, "something's tweaked you again, didn't it, Princess? What was it, this time? Are you embarrassed that your date still can't keep his own pants up? I know that'd..."

Kim loses her temper again attacking.

Shego didn't bother protecting herself.

Kim twirls her cane striking her left cheek.

Shego loses her footing again tumbling several times over serrated debris. She didn't cry in pain or beg her opponent to quit. She laughs with contempt crawling back onto her feet.

Kim jabs her opponent in the stomach.

Shego collapses on her knees holding her stomach. Piercing coughs and gasping replace derisive laughter.

That was his cue. He knew Shego was in trouble. He didn't have time to debate his actions any longer. He enacts Basset-Hound-666's master plan. He rifles through his stolen chemicals, storing the **Emmio-7 mutagen vial** back, and rushes back downstairs, skipping two and three steps per stride.

He was unsure what he'd find. He didn't' really care. Drakken wasn't even sure why. He only cared about saving Shego. There was something different about Kim Possible. She'd become more methodical and brutal in dealing with enemies lately.

Kim spins around landing a powerful blow atop her adversary's head. She knew the comet powered woman could this punishment and more.

Shego flips slam over landing square on her back. Again, she didn't cry out in pain, only whistles.

Drakken receives his signal. Stairwell E's door bursts open without warning. Drakken throws every vial at once towards the annoying redhead.

Kim acts on instincts, not sure what he'd done. She spins around swinging her cane. Its wood edge easily shatters a vial. Mutagen drenches her head to toe. The chemical starts to burn like fire against skin, and quickly gets absorbed into her system overstimulating her nerves and amplifying her nerves' sensitivity unto pain. She barely activates her suit's BSL-4 bio-bubble in time.

"Hey, you can't..."

"I wouldn't, Wonder Boy," Drakken bluffs, holding up his Emmio-7 vial.

Her screams continues until Kim loses consciousness.

"What do you want, Drakken?"

"Shego and I leave here with our merchandise. You can _then_ get your partner some medical help".

"Take her and leave, while you still can, Drakken," Ron steps back. A blue sheen stained his pupils.

"Shego, let's go".

Shego stumbles onto her feet.

"What about you, Shego?" Ron notices her deep-set smirk.

"I told, Doc, that knockout gas would work," she blusters, limping past him and towards the same stairwell, near Drakken. Both disappear up the stairs.

"Wade," Ron ignores them escaping, "I need an ambulance here, immediately".

"Why?"

"Drakken hit Kim with some chemicals".

"What kind?"

"I don't know, Buddy. We can't sample it, either. Kim activated a bio-containment field before losing consciousness".

"The CDC's Hazmat team will be there in 10-minutes, Ron. Whatever you do, stay with her and don't leave or breach that bio-bubble".

"I won't, Old Buddy".

Ron sat by his partner's side chattering away, confessing everything he'd been doing lately. He realized, even if his unconscious partner could hear him, she probably couldn't understand him. He prayed she'd at least recognize the sound of his voice. Maybe that would keep her calm. He knew, talking helped him stay calmer.

20-minutes comes and goes. He ignores his watch's ticks recounting various Team Possible adventures. He abruptly stops, hearing chopper blades whirling overhead. He barely turns his head spotting soldiers in fatigues converging upon them. A tranquilizer dart impacts his thigh knocking him out cold within seconds.

Giving Ear

Dean, Pearl, and Hanna Stoppable barely walk inside their door good. They'd been on an extended vacation in Honolulu, Hawaii, and over into Molokai. Pearl and Hanna head upstairs to freshen up. Dean lugs their last bit of luggage inside.

He plops down on the sofa, exhausted, exhaling sharply. His mind didn't initially register the phone. Six rings later the caller still hadn't hung up. What really grabbed his attention? His son didn't come flying past him at warp speed snatching up the receiver.

He leans over retrieving the receive, "Hello".

"Can I speak with **Dean** or **Pearl Stoppable**?"

"I'm Dean Stoppable".

"Sir, my name's **Dr. Michelle Galliger** , M.D., with the _U.S. Army Medical Research Institute of Infectious Diseases_ in **Fort Detrick** , **Maryland** ".

"No disrespect meant, Doctor," Dean yawns, losing patience fast. "I've just returned home from an extended vacation. What does this call concern?"

"Your son..."

"Infectious diseases? What wrong with my son, Doctor?" Dean was all ears, concerned over his son's well-being.

"Your son's been quarantined over possible exposure to as-of-yes unidentified bio-contaminants during a breach at **Mandrake Bio-Research, Inc.** ".

"How'd this happen?"

"National security prevents me discussing mission specifics over the phone, Sir".

"How was he infected?"

Dr. Galliger recites the same rule urging him, "You must speak with **Major General Nathaniel Holland** about that, Sir".

"Can I see my boy?"

"Again..."

"I know, I know, only the general can grant me permission," he slams down the receiver.

Inside Source

Dean races upstairs and straight into the master bedroom.

Pearl turns, hearing him enter. They'd been married nearly 30-years. She discerns, he needed to tell her something, and it wasn't good news. "What's wrong, Darling?" She starts towards her husband with growing consternation with each successive step.

Dean was a traditionalist. The man was the strong one, head of his household, and didn't show fear. His voice breaks with emotion. He wraps her within his arms sharing the bad news.

"My boy!" She repeats several times sobbing in his arms. She breaks his hold, races back down the stairs, and snatches up the telephone.

Dean wasn't far behind certain about her intentions. Call Anne, maybe another doctor would know what's wrong with their boy? He grasps her hand for moral support.

"Kitchen," she whispers, phone still ringing on the other end.

Dean slips into the kitchen picking up their extension line.

"Hello".

"Anne, are you free to talk a couple of minutes?"

Ron's parents and sister were on vacation the last two weeks. Authorities tracked the family unto Honolulu, Hawaii, but lost them. "You finally heard about Ron, didn't you?"

"Yea, the army medical corps just spoke with Dean. Dr. Blah-Blah wouldn't elaborate much, except Ron's hurt. What happened unto my baby, Anne?"

" **Major General Nathaniel Holland** notified us 7-days ago. They tried but failed to locate you, your husband, and daughter. A lab breach infected the children..."

"Lab breach? Infection? How were they infected? And with what? Dr. Blah-Blah wouldn't tell us anything, positive or negative".

Pearl and her husband came off cold, distant, even. They didn't openly show their emotions, but both loved their children dearly. Anne sympathized with her best friend's concerns, "He didn't, Pearl, well, because **Dr. Xavier Tomlin** , their attending physician, and **USAMRID's** resident trauma/infectious disease specialist, has been unable to determine what exactly what, if anything, he may've contracted during that bio-breach. For now, tetracycline helps..."

"What does those meds treat?"

Anne didn't bother name all his meds and what each does. She only assures the woman, "The meds will boost his immunity against bacteria and viruses".

"What happened, Anne? Truthfully".

"Two thieves attempted to steal some very dangerous chemicals. Ron and Kim stopped them. Shego distracted Kim. Ron helped lab workers escape possible injury or exposure. Drakken doused her with multiple vials containing deadly pathogens, viral strains, biological agents, and mutagenic compounds.

The problem is, all vials broke at once mixing together soaking through her pores. My baby could be suffering from any single or number of illnesses. Kim currently exhibits influenza symptoms—profuse sweating, heavy but shallow breaths, elevated heart rate and BP, etc".

"My boy will be okay, won't he?"

"I doubt you have anything to worry about, Pearl," Anne tries to ease her concerns. "Kim erected a BSL-4 bio-bubble around herself shielding Ron from exposure. Second, his blood work and other bio-samples have consistently tested negative for any exposure. He did have a slight cold. But, you can rest easy, he's responding unto treatment. Kim isn't".

"Oh, Dear God," Pearl covers her mouth hating herself just then. Pleased, her son wasn't in mortal danger, but sad, at the same time, his best friend was. "Do they know anything, Anne?"

"The **CDC** and **USAMRID** called in **Dr. Madelyn Ortiz** , the army's microbiological-immunology specialist, about 6-days ago. She hasn't ascertained what Kim contracted. Like I said, it could be any combination of things. Ron's condition was downgraded last night. He was moved into a private room, simply for observation..."

"When will they discharge Little Ronnie?"

"Tomorrow, possibly; or the next day at the latest, Pearl," Anne reassures her.

"What about Kim?"

"It doesn't look good. Dr. Ortiz said, whatever's ailing her isn't pathogenic, viral, or biological in nature. Her recent symptoms didn't seem infectious. She called in mutagenic specialist, **Dr. Myron Hagen** , the secret scientist who replicated and neutralized Drakken's mutagenic plant formula. He should arrive here within the next couple of days. After that, who knows?"

Piercing silence stretches over the miles. Pearl simply held the phone processing what she'd been told, until hearing, "Dr. Possible, please report to Operating Room #4".

"Pearl, I must go. We can talk more tonight, if you wish".

"I'll call, if need be, Anne," Pearl hangs up.

Her husband seconds her sentiments.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** Kim Possible and all associated characters portrayed and/or implied inside this fanfict belong solely unto Walt Disney Productions.

Endless Search

The Possibles and Stoppables weren't alone.

Shego had her own worries. Of course, she didn't care about Ron. It'd been over 2-weeks. She hadn't seen or heard anything from Princess, despite the breadcrumbs she'd left for Princess' Brain Boy-Geek. No one showed up to thwart their latest schemes.

She'd often dreamt about ending Princess. Shego never realized how boring her life would become without the prissy cheerleader. Listening to Drakken drawl on about his latest scheme and staying locked inside her lair bedroom became the highlights of her days.

She couldn't complain too much, though. She antagonized but never expected Princess would wail on her so savagely. Ever bone still ached and muscle burned with exertion. No doubt, Prince Charming did something stupid, as men so often do. Tweaked, Princess took out her aggravation against her rival, the comet-powered lady who could take a beating.

Another week passes. Princess still hadn't showed up. Drakken stayed locked inside his lab. Doing what? Shego didn't know or care, too worried about her Princess. Kim Possible wasn't a friend. Miss Go was a debacle. That person was dead, buried, and forgotten. Her concern was purely professionals, at least that's what she told herself. A thief must know her rival's location at all times.

Shego quickly showers, grabs a holo-emitter, and heads out. She searches the redhead's usual haunts, even peeks inside Wade and G.J.'s personal files. 3-days wasted. She came up empty-handed. Tired, she swallows her pride placing a HenchCo ad, before returning unto the lab for some sleep. She'd barely slept 8-hours. Z.Z. Top wakes her up singing, ' _Bad To The Bone_ '.

She snatches up her cell phone, "This had best be life or death, yours".

"Is this Curious-But-Crazy-Bitch342?" A mystery voice reaches into her mind's deepest recesses.

Shego snaps her head up, awake in 2-seconds flat. "Speaking," she drops the attitude.

"Are you still seeking Kim Possible's location?"

"I am. A thief must always know her enemies' whereabouts at all times," she regrets that last part.

"Is the $35,000 reward still available?" The caller ignores the last part.

"If your information's accurate, Mr..." Shego stipulates her conditions.

"Curious George-7936," the caller identifies himself.

Shego accesses his HenchCo profile. Usefulness, 75%. Accuracy, 95%. Reliability, 50%. That last part gives her ample reason to doubt his credibility. He flaked half the time, if paid before the info was proven accurate. "Here's the deal. I'll transfer the agreed amount into a time-locked account..."

"Time-locked?"

"It's a special HenchCo account. Your account will post a pending transaction. They money, though, stays in this special account for 24-hours. That gives me time to verify your information. If it checks out, the money will auto-post into your account by this time tomorrow. Do you agree?"

His rating wasn't the best. And he needed money fast. "Fine," he agrees. "The redhead's hospitalized at the _U.S. Army Medical Research Institute of Infectious Diseases_ ".

"Infectious diseases? Why's she there?"

"Don't know. Don't care. Where's my money?"

She hesitates paying him over his blasé attitude. A deal was a deal, she resolves. She did offer him, or anyone else, $35,000 to learn Kimmie's whereabouts. She opens her laptop, accesses an overseas account, and then transfers the funds into her special holding account.

"The pending transactions should post..."

A computer beeps on the other end. "Ah, yes, I see what you mean. 24-hours and the money will be mine. Thank you, Curious-But-Crazy-Bitch342. I hope we can do business again sometime in the near future," the caller preens, before hanging up.

Fiery Brunette

Shego leans back propped upon her pillows. She knew Princess' location, but not how she wound up inside an infectious diseases center. Her nemesis incapacitated, possibly dying. No one could stop her crime sprees now. She should be invigorated and planning her next heist. And yet, why did her victory feel so hollow? All she could think, she and Dr. D weren't infected. That left one possibility.

Shego storms downstairs. A viral rage invigorated each step. "Drakken!" She yells across the main area. Henches scatter in every direction.

Drakken didn't know what he'd done, only whatever he'd done, he was on his own. "Oh, snap," he glares around his lab. There was one way in and one out. He was trapped.

Shego storms inside. Palms aflame, matching the inferno in her retinas. "What'd you hit Princess with inside that lab?"

"A vial," he draws back.

"I know that," she snaps curtly. "What was inside that vial?"

He didn't respond fast enough.

She punches his lab desk. Her fist leaves a sizeable dent in solid steel. She reiterates her last question, "What was inside that vial, Doc?"

Drakken falls back on his mystery partner's prescribed story He plays stupid, "I don't know".

"What do you mean you don't know?" She yells, flaring her plasma.

"I panicked, okay?" He throws his hands up in exasperation. Hoping she didn't kill or injure him too badly. He'd pray, if he was a praying man. "She beat you..."

"Beat me! Quit being so damn asinine," she backhands him across the lab. She picks up and bends the solid steel desk with her bare, plasma-infused hands. "We discussed _**my**_ **plan** in great detail. I'd allow Princess to work me over. You hit her with the knockout gas. We escape; the cops discover her and the buffoon and later link my dummy accounts with Team Possible. Authorities would them for our crimes, like we'd pay them as our lookouts. My plan was flawless. How could you screw up so royally?"

He'd taken her abuse for years. It gets more potent when she loses. He couldn't take it anymore, "What are you so upset about? Do you care about Kim Possible? Is that why we've lost so many times in the past?"

"I care nothing about her, You Idiot," Shego screams in pure ire, ignites her fist, and demolishes a lab table between them. She grabs his lapel, drags him through its debris, and pins him against the lab's far back wall, "You really don't know me, do you? Let's get one thing straight, Doc. I only care about two things, two: (1) my life and (2) my reputation.

I jeopardized _my reputation_ by permitting Princess to work me over. I took one for the team. Did you do your part? No! You threw those vials of only God knows what. That asinine act endangered _our_ lives. We'd both be dead or, at the very least, infected and locked inside some lab, if Princess didn't act so fast and erect that quarantine bubble.

Adding insult to injury, her buffoon told everyone how Princess 'beat me'. My HenchCo ratings have dropped 10-points already, not counting my losing several endorsements within the villain community. Contacts, that took years to develop, all because you couldn't do your part!"

"I didn't know..."

"Of course, you didn't," she cuts him off. "You rarely, if ever, think through your actions. Trust me, Your Idiosyncrasies, are why we've lost time and time again. But, by all means, go ahead and imagine some sordid love affair between Princess and me, if it makes you feel more like a man. I don't' care. Know this, Doc, you ever put my name, reputation or life in jeopardy again. Our partnership is over, no exceptions, contract or not!"

Watchful Eye

"I understand," he cedes her point.

"I hope you do".

He discerns something else bothering his henchwoman. Bottling up emotions are never healthy, and especially so, when your partner's irascible and wields plasma. "What else is bothering you, Shego?"

"Well, you're smarter than you appear," she castigates his intelligence.

"What's that supposed to mean, Shego?" He complains behind gritted teeth.

"Your incompetence didn't just damage my HenchCo reputation, but exposed us globally in the worst possible way, ever!"

"So," he shrugs it off, "what are you so worried about. We can..."

"No," she castigates him sharply, "there's no _**we**_ , Dr. D. _**You**_ pay _**me**_ to protect _**you**_. I'll certainly do my best, but can't possibly fight every law enforcement agency in America, in addition to Interpol and Global Justice".

"I don't see this issue, Shego. I trust you".

"Doc, field agents have orders, 'apprehend with extreme prejudice'. Code, shoot to kill, if they show any sign of resistance".

"Why?" He pales over the possibility.

"Princess' buffoon told DOD about us stealing those chemicals. They inventoried the shattered beakers ascertaining we stole **Emmio-7 mutagen**. Their 'brain child' painted another Lil' Diablo disaster. **Preside Valentino** convened the NSC upgrading our threat status".

"We should contact Hench..."

"Wise up, Dr. D," Shego contemns his daftness sometimes. "You can bet, DOD's already pressuring Hench, even as we speak. He won't hesitate to give us up. Those agents simply haven't found the proper incentive yet. And what about our enemies, like Dementor?"

"Isn't he dead?"

Shego cuts her eyes.

"He doesn't..."

"...know our current lair? Wise up," she slaps him upside the head. "We're squatting in one of his old lairs now. Don't you have any brains? Ghee Whiz!" She shakes her head cursing under her breath.

"Get ready to move within the hour," he directs his henchwoman.

"Gladly," she storms outside his lab rallying the henches. Not one dared argue given her sour mood and volatile temperament.

Chance Meeting

3-months pass. Kim was still under 24/7 observation.

He'd been discharged over 3-months ago. Ron barely left his room, except to bathe, take restroom breaks, go to work then straight home, and occasionally snacking. He'd lost so much weight. His parents started to really worried about his mental and physical health.

Dean and Pearl realized, he wasn't coping with Kim's condition very well. Pearl didn't bother knocking anymore. Her son seldom answered the door anymore. That giant 'Do Not Disturb' sign grew more intimidating with each passing day. She understood a man needed his space, but simply couldn't stand by and watch him waste away any longer.

She heads straight downstairs, eases into the living room, and sits on the sofa beside her husband. "Dean," she leans into his chest, "we have to do something. He's still locked inside his bedroom, like an inconsolable hermit".

"Hermit? Pearl, really," Dean chuckles dismissively. "He's only worried about Kim".

"I worry about her, too. He needs help. Inconsolable grief has crippled his social life".

"What social life?" Dean shrugs. "Even before the accident, our boy usually spent every waking moment with Kim, on missions, going to college, or grabbing a naco at Bueno Nacho, except when he went over Felix's house and played video games".

"Speaking about nacos," she regretted her son's inability to make friends, "did you know he hasn't ate one since being discharged".

"No, I didn't," he admits his own ignorance. "I can't say it really surprises me, though".

"Oh, and why's that, Dear?" She senses something weighing heavily on her boy's heart.

"He'd planned on taking Kim there and proposing..."

"What?" She sits up straight eyeing him and glaring back upstairs, "He never said anything to me".

"Well, he asked my advice nearly 6-months back," his father boasts, putting an arm around his wife's right shoulder.

"What's he been doing these past 6-months?"

"Working, where else?" Dean thought that much should be obvious.

"All those broken dates, missing their special Fridays, his nervousness around her lately, avoiding her calls, being blunter and acting strange..."

Dean cuts his eyes trying to keep a straight face.

"...well, okay, stranger than usual," she chortles momentarily, but gets serious again. "I can't speak for Kim, but, as a woman, his actions would tell me, 'I'm bore with this relationship. I think we need a change and need to see other people'".

"I agree, Pearly, he didn't handle this proposal like we think he should have," Dean understand her misconception. "You'd love his chosen engagement ring: a three-prong rose gold ring, adorned with 1-karat center diamond stone, accented by a custom teardrop shaped 1/3-karat diamond border with matching 1/3-karat diamonds along all the three prongs around the band".

"How much did it cost?"

"$2,200".

"He was serious," she imagines Kim elation over receiving such a precious gift.

"He was".

"Kim isn't here to accept or reject his proposal. He can't stay locked inside his bedroom indefinitely. Whether she lives or dies, he must learn to embrace life again, Dean".

"I'll speak with him, Dear".

"Thank you," she pats his left knee heading into the kitchen".

Father's Knows Best

Dean couldn't deny. He, too, worried about his son's recent reclusiveness. He opted to give him some space, not anymore. He eases upstairs, approaches his room, and knocks lightly.

Ron grunts loudly. A sure sign, he didn't wish to be disturbed.

His house, his rules, Dean barges inside anyway but stops cold gasping in shock. His son's room was spotless. A prayer shrine set up in he far right corner. His and Kim's pictures centered the table. A wall-mount birdcage jewelry organizer displayed Kim's ring and matching necklace. Prayer candles flicker roundabout their portraits erecting a prayer circle. Ron wore a traditional Jewish prayer shawl reading healing prayer scriptures over their pictures.

Ron discerns his door open. His father's knock was distinctive, and gait even more so. "What do you want, Dad?" He asks without turning around.

"Ron, you've sulked long enough. Your mother..."

"...should mind her own business," Ron pounds his pillow.

"Listen here, Ronald…!"

"No, Dad, for once, you'll listen," Ron stands his ground. "These walls are pretty thin, Dad. I heard you and mom talking downstairs. I'm not sulking or being a recluse. I'm praying, Dad; living my faith".

"For what, Son? Praying God's will, or forcing yours?"

"I can't say, Dad," the blonde boy admits with tear-stained eyes. "I only know, Kim was dying. She wasn't responding to any treatment. I start to pray. Her immunity kicks into overdrive baffling every army specialist there. Half accredit their medicinal cocktails; the rest refuse to comment one way or another. Either way, she still has months of recovery ahead, and rehab after that. I believe, prayer moved God's hands giving her a fighting chance. That isn't forcing God's will".

"You're learning, Son," Dean grips his shoulder. "But, you've forgotten a few things".

"I have? Like what, Dad?" He listens with full attention.

"I proud, Son, you haven't forgotten your Jewish roots. However, you must remember. We're Messianic Jews. We believe in the Torah and New Testament. James 5:15 states, 'And the prayer of faith shall save the sick, and the Lord shall raise him up".

"I know, Dad," Ron explains his pray approach. "Likewise, Romans 12:12 builds upon this concept teaching believers. We should rejoice in hope, and be patient and long suffering in times of tribulation, and constant in prayer. And that's what I'm doing".

"Son, constant there doesn't mean praying 24/7 without ever sleeping or spending time with your family and friends. Remember Paul's example. 1 Thes. 5:17 states, he prayed without ceasing, but still found time to write epistles, witness to others, even at times worked a regular job and slept, Son".

Ron considers his dad's advice. He didn't call him a liar. His dad understood the bible in a way few ministers did. "How does that relate unto my situation, Dad?"

"Constant here denotes praying with diligence, Son," Dean explains without getting too theological. "We should preserve in prayer. Matthew 21:21-22 defines preserving as praying without doubt. You ask God's will, and then leave the decision in His hands, and continue to believe despite what transpires in the natural. Knowing, that's God Almighty's answer".

"What your point, Dad?"

"Simply this, Son. There's nothing wrong with prayer. Even Jesus, though, socialized".

"I see your point, Dad," Ron leans over blowing out his prayer candles. "My actions discredit my faith. Mom's right, too. Kim would scold me over becoming a hermit". He laughs lightly caressing her photo, sitting on the table. "I'm gonna head to Bueno Nacho and grab a grande size naco meal, Dad".

"Do you need any money, Son?"

"Nah, I have my own, Dad, but thanks for offering," Ron grabs his jacket and heads out.

His father follows him downstairs.

His wife waits until the front door closes. "Well?"

"He was holding a 24/7 vigil for her recovery, Pearl, like I suspected all along".

"Is he going to start socializing again?"

"For now," her husband replies with considerable doubt. His son agreed to easily. "Only time will truly tell, Pearl". He wraps her lovingly within his arms again. Hanna stays in the background watching but saying nothing.

Making Introductions

Prying eyes observe the blonde leave. She reaches for the nearest phone dialing her new partner.

Drakken recognizes her Caller-ID boding, "You have good news, Missy?"

"The blonde just left his house".

"It's about time," Drakken huffs. "I thought that kid would mope forever".

Drakken had changed a good bit since they'd met. He'd grown a backbone and insisted she follow his instructions _to the letter_. Bassett-Hound-666 humors him to achieve her objective, assigned by her real boss, **Arlin Helion** , head of **Necros**. "What do we do?" She gives him enough room to grow.

"We arrange a chance meeting between the buffoon and your girl. She's conditioned for him. Is she aware of her obligation during this assignment?"

"Indigo knows nothing about our arrangement," she assures the blue idiot. "That way, fickle teenage sentimentality can't possibly undermine our mission. She'd do as told, Doctor".

"Get started, but know this. Let my henchwoman learn about this. You both become expendable. Get my point, Gama Rose?"

"Crystal," she grits her teeth fuming mad. She'd surely kill him, if not for her mission.

"Ned, my Main Man," Ron greets the Bueno Nacho manager.

Ned heard the rumors. Many claim Ron and Kim perished during their last mission. Global Justice and their families kept it quiet not to endanger an on-going operation. "Ron, you're alive," he hides his own concern behind a joke, high-fiving his best customer.

"Yea," Ron grins lopsidedly, "Alive and kicking".

"Haven't seen you inside here in quite some time, Man," he lets his concerns slip. "Where have you been hiding that mug for the past 3-months?"

Ron shrugs, not really giving an excuse, "Working through some private issues, Man".

He didn't need to say anymore. Ned heard about Kim's accident. Word was, doctors didn't think she'd make it long. He drops the issue sensing the blonde's discomfort, "What do you want today? Anything for my most loyal customer".

"A naco grande special, for here," Ron rubs his palms together.

"Coming right up," Neds rings up his order. The naco meal gets displayed on the order screen back in the kitchen.

Ron waits patiently.

Ned returns his meal a few minutes later joking, "Fate smiles upon you this day. Here's your meal. And your usual booth just became available, too".

"I'll enjoy one for Kim," he grabs his tray, heads towards their table, and sits down. He barely takes two bites.

Monique walks inside the restaurant approaching his table. "So," she teases the blonde, "you finally leave your Kimmie-shrine".

"Yea," he rubs his nape nervously, not over her needling him, as much as her redhead shadow's striking resemblance to Kim, only shapelier. "I decided, Kim wouldn't approve my becoming a monk, I mean, hermit". He quickly corrects himself recovering his composure.

The redhead girl covers her mouth chortling. Positive, she had his attention.

First Impressions

"You can say that again, Blondie," Monique glares between the two. "Oh, by the way, she's the NGIT".

"NGIT?" Ron shrugs.

"I think she means, ' _new girl in town_ '. My name's **Jame Indigo Ferrara**. My mom and friends call me, **Indigo** , though".

"Where ya from, Indigo?" Ron initiates a conversation losing his shyness.

"I'm originally from **Aurora** , **Illinois** ; a suburb in the **Great Chicago** area, near **Kane County**. My dad, **Nicholas Ferrara** , was a cop there. He was killed in the line of duty. We moved here to make a fresh start. It's what he'd wanted".

Ron didn't usually notice such things, but caught Monique eyeing them suspiciously. He didn't care what she may be thinking. He felt a kindred connection with this grieving young woman. He hadn't lost his love yet, but knew, it could happen any time. He held hope he'd hold her again in his arms. The only difference, she can never hug her father again.

Monique clears her throat sharply breaking up their 'puppy-dog' eyes make out session asking, "Any plans this weekend, Ron?"

"What about a movie? The theater's playing a rerun of **Watchmen** , an action-packed flick about a small band of superheroes battling a super villain, determined to throw the world into nuclear war to save the planet and people. Go figure".

"Why not!" Monique snorts, "We could do dinner and shopping afterwards".

"I can't," Indigo opts out. "My mother draws survivorship benefits. Our money..."

"Relax, Indigo. I think that was her point".

"Huh? I don't understand," Indigo stares between the ebony girl and blonde boy.

Monique rolls her eyes regretting ever introducing these two. Now, new girl's making moves on her best friend's man. Ron was so daft. He didn't notice. She did, though.

"You've just sampled sarcastic Monique," Ron explains the ebony girl's eccentricities. "She's a very talented, outspoken fashion diva, but usually turns sarcastic when feeling like a 5-wheel".

"Quit lying to my girl here, Ron Stoppable. I know how she feels. I, too, was once the poorest girl in my neighborhood. All my friends went to the movies, out to eat, joy riding in their cars, etc. I couldn't, too busy worrying where my next meal would come from, how to keep a roof over my head, and where I could obtain my clothes the cheapest. I just didn't want to put her on the spot".

"Thank you, Monique," Indigo smiles, holding up her right fist.

"Don't mention it, Girl," Monique bumps fists.

Lasting Impressions

"Monique's right," Indigo retracts her hand. "I can't afford to do any of those things. Mom barely affords the rent and pay the monthly utilities. That's why I start my new job at Smarty Mart, early tomorrow morning, 7:00 a.m.".

"That's where I work," Ron livens up around the new girl. "What's your department?"

"Cashier," Indigo brushes strands of hair off her left ear. "I need extra money. They're the only place hiring around this area. Dad isn't here anymore. It's just us girls now. Mom needs my help keeping food on our table. I can't simply waste hard-earned money on such frivolous activities. I can, however, cook, cater/organize parties..."

"How good a cook?" That part piqued Ron's interests more.

"I'm earning my masters degree in Culinary Arts online from **Milkens Institute School of Public Health** ".

"And you're working as a cashier?" Monique arches a brow, confused more than ever.

"Yea. Why?"

"Damn, Girl," Monique turns spy gleaning what she could, "why didn't you become a chef at one of the local restaurants. You'd earn more cooking that ringing cash registers all day at Smarty Mart".

"I did, believe me. Every manager turned me down over my inexperience. A few did offer to hire me as a waitress. Fact is, I can earn more cashiering than waitressing. And besides, I despised the thought of all those strange men pinching and touching me in all the wrong places. I dream about one day opening my own restaurant. A respectable man will honor a girl's dignity".

Ron started to like this girl, more and more.

Monique didn't miss his growing infatuation.

"Where do you live, Indigo?"

"Two houses down and one over from yours, Ron".

'So, it's Ron now. She just meets him, but already knows his first name and where he lives. This girl's laying it on thick,' Monique goes from mad to livid hearing...

"Would you like to share my naco?"

"Never had one," Indigo plays dainty.

"Nacho meets taco". Ron halves his naco, "Here's your half of the naco".

"Mmmm," she savors her first taste dabbing her lips. "That's delicious".

"And we have a winner," he throws up both hands.

Indigo double high-fives him laughing boisterously.

"Sorry to break this up. We really must get going," Monique needed to separate these two, quick. If she didn't, they'd probably end up making out right here.

"Ah, do we have to leave so soon, Monique," Indigo protest mildly.

"Do you want a ride home?"

The new girl nods, "Yea".

"I have 30-minutes. That leaves me just enough time to drop you back home and get to work on time," Monique gives a reasonable excuse.

"It's okay, Monique," Ron destroys the dark toned girl's ploy. "My scooter's right outside. I can give her a ride home. I'm headed her way".

"I'm impressed," Indigo jokes.

"Don't be," Monique prepare the brain dead girl for a shock. "You haven't rode his scooter before".

Indigo glares between the blonde and ebony girl.

Monique eyes this traitor with growing uncertainty. Positive, she wouldn't spend one more minute with Ron after riding his scooter from hell. She turns and leaves without another word.

Drakken mostly stayed inside his lab avoiding Shego. She read him too easily. It was scary. Would she support his latest operation? Or consider it a breach of trust? He could chance her quitting like she threatened last week.

His cell phone chimes with his operative's latest email. Drakken retrieves his phone smirking at the latest photo. The blonde dropped off the new girl at her house. He preens, his plan was progressing better than he could've ever imagined.

"Wait a week, and start the media campaign," he replies unto his operative in the field.

"That should really get the redhead's attention".

"Oh, that comes later. Just do as you're told, or else," Drakken texts a response laying aside his cell.

Gama Rose grits her fists so tight. She thirsted for that idiot's blood, but couldn't touch him. Her boss would surely kill her, if she did.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** Kim Possible and all associated characters portrayed and/or implied inside this fanfict belong solely unto Walt Disney Productions.

Fuel To The Fire

Ron drove past his house. His scooter made such distinctive noises sputtering past his house. His parents gathered around the living room window, seeing another girl—who wasn't Kim—riding on the back of their son's scooter.

He drops Indigo off at her house, wishes her well on her job tomorrow, then backs out and returns home himself. The blonde boy climbs off his scooter and makes his way up the front walk. He barely gets inside, only to be greeting by both parents.

His dad speaks for them both asking, "Who's your 'lady friend, Ronald?"

"Her name's **Indigo Ferrara** , Dad," he didn't see the big deal.

"Is she new in town, Son?" His mom probes how serious he was about this girl. Maybe she could pull her son out of this funk?

Ron felt like a little kid again. His parents always did the same thing. They'd fuss over every friend, especially girls. That's why he became a social outcast. It was easier than the 3rd degree. Maybe that's why he had such a hard time making new friends today. He knew, they meant well.

"She just moved into the neighborhood," he didn't offer much else.

His dad wouldn't accept such secrecy asking, "Where's she from?"

"Aurora, IL," their son replies. "Her father was a cop there. He was killed in the line of duty".

Pearl didn't say anything. Her downtrodden expression betrayed her mounting concerns. She barely gets him outside his shell. And what happens? He hooks up with another traumatized soul.

"Relax, Mom," he assures his worry-wort, but well-meaning mom. "Indigo isn't some girl I picked up on the rebound to replace Kim, in case she dies, or to ruffle your feathers. I'm simply helping her cope with her father's passing and acclimate into Middleton".

"We trust you, Son," Dean ruffles his son's hair playfully.

'Just not her,' Pearl snits her husband's proclamation.

"Thanks, Dad," Ron appreciated his trust. "I'm gonna head to bed. I must be at work bright and early tomorrow. I work the 7:00-3:00 p.m. shift".

"Good night, Son".

Ron head upstairs to bathe and get ready for bed.

Ron exits his home exactly 6:15 a.m. the next morning. He switches things up wearing a light blue short-sleeve turtleneck, black slacks, and dark blue sneakers. Ron rounds the shrubs stopping cod. And there she stood in full beauty.

"Uh...hi," he stutters, as if he'd forgotten her name.

"Indigo, remember?" She reminds his about her name. "We met yesterday".

"Oh, yea, how could I so easily forget?" He jokes to ease their tension.

She breaks the tension asking pointedly, "Can I bum a ride?"

"I'm actually heading to work".

"Me, too," she explains her situation. "For whatever reason, my 1978 Chevy Nova refuses to start this morning. What worse, I can't afford a mechanic, until I get my first paycheck".

Ron rushes into the garage, grabs Kim's spare helmet, and hands it over, "Wear this and hold on. It isn't the fastest thing on the road..."

Her dad used to say the same thing. She completes his catchphrase, "…at least it gets you where you are heading, right?"

"Kinda like your Nova, well, usually," Ron straddles his moped.

Indigo cracks up laughing. She climbs abroad grasping his waist.

Ron starts up his moped sputtering down the street.

Monique passes them on Main Street heading to work. She still managed Club Banana's store inside the local mall. She couldn't miss Ron's beat up, sputtering moped a mile away, or his passenger with her arms around his waist, smiling.

"Call, Wade," her car's bluetooth dials her boyfriend.

Wade cell phone rings. He rolls over in bed groaning. He'd been up all night programming a special DOD project, and had barely gotten to sleep good. "Hello," he answers groggily.

"Wade, do you ever want to date me again?"

"Uh, is this a trick question, Monique? We're already dating..." His jaded mind finally catches up. "Wait," he leaps out of bed, "are you calling to break up with me? Did I do something...?"

"Not yet," she leaves him hanging.

"What do you mean 'not yet'?"

"Ron met a new girl. She's putting the move on my girl's man..."

Wade stifles a snicker, but not soon enough.

"I know you didn't just laugh over my girl's pain and another hussy putting the moves on her man," Monique reproves his insensitivity.

"No, I'd never..."

"You know what..." She pauses to better choose her words. "Never mind," she goes to hang up.

"Don't hang up, Moni," Wade pleads. "Ask what you will, and I'll do my best".

"Ron met a new girl. She gave him a sad song and dance. Her name is **Jame Indigo Ferrara** ," she even spells the hussy's name. "Supposedly, her and her mom are very poor. She's an inexperienced chef or some nonsense like that, but works at Smarty Mart just to eat. She shares Ron's dream of being a chef one day. Something don't smell right about this girl".

"Kinda like Eric, only in reverse?" Wade grins.

Monique didn't need to see him. "Exactly," she turns his smirk upside down, "only this time they hit the central nerve, not just a minor one, Hot Lips".

Wade instantly perceives what she meant. Hot Lips signaled, decipher this strange girl's game, if she is pulling one, and she's make his wildest dreams come true. "I'll get right on this, Moni".

"See you do, Heart Throb".

Time and Again

Ron's schedule remained the same over the next week:

5:45 a.m. Wake up and take a shower.

5:55 a.m. Get dressed

6:05 a.m. Grab a bowl of cereal, Fruit Loops mixed with Apple Jacks

6:15 a.m. Meet Indigo outside and leave for work

7-3 p.m. Manage Smarty Mart. He was Barkin's boss, finally.

He spent every afternoon, 3-8 p.m., showing the new girl Middleton's highlights: three theaters, the best restaurants, four local parks, the mall, and various night clubs. Ron pulls into Maja's Bar and Grill, the hippest German nightclub in the Tri-County area.

"Did Josh examine your car?"

"The blue eyed, frosted brown haired mechanic?"

"That's my man," Ron snaps his fingers.

"Yea, he did".

"What'd he say?"

"First, he tried to get into my pants".

"I told you watch yourself around that one," Ron winks in her direction. "He has an eye for gorgeous babes and doesn't mind sampling if they're dishing".

Indigo rolls her eyes in disgust, but held her tongue. He may be Ron's friends, not hers.

"What'd he say?" Ron asks the same question.

"My distributor went bad. He said, it'd cost $500 to get her fixed again".

"I see," Ron gets out heading into the bar.

The waitress had just delivered their platter of German-sauerkraut pork sliders, served with fry-bites mixed with jalapenos, bacon bits, and Swiss-cheddar cheese.

Ron's phone rings. He stops up one ear answering on the 4th ring, "Hello".

"Ron, it's done," Josh Mankey alerts Ron.

"Good, let's rev her up," Ron sticks his phone unto Indigo's left ear.

Josh turns over the ignition mashing the gas. Her Chevy Nova roars to life sputter over 6 RPMs. "What do you think?"

"It sounds beautiful," she was near tears.

"How?" Indigo hands back his phone.

Ron hangs up, "Short and sweet, I paid your repair bill. Now, you don't have to sleep with him or me. Friendship aside, you will pay me back every dime".

"How?" She asks uneasily over what most men wanted in the past.

"Here," he hands her a contract, "you will sign this for starters".

"What's this?" She slides her platter over reading the contract.

"I've already checked out your vehicle. The car's registered under your name. That piece of paper states," he sums up its major points, "I've placed a lien against your vehicle. You'll pay me $40/week until your debt is paid in full. You renege, and you forfeit ownership. If you get mad..."

She loses control sobbing heavily.

Ron sits there. He grew uncomfortable under people's piercing glares. He reaches out and grasps her hand reassuringly apologizing, "I'm sorry..."

"Don't be," she regains her composure enough choking out. "I'm not mad, quite the opposite. I'll gladly pay you back. Men usually only show such kindness when..."

"Say no more. I understand what you mean. I don't want or expect that. I gave my heart unto my special lady friend".

"I understand, and envy her," she signs the contract, leans over and pecks his right cheek.

"I get that a lot," Ron winks, folding and putting away his legal document. He starts to devour his sliders stuffing fry bites into his mouth at the same time. He really missed Rufus during these times. His passing hit Team Possible hard. He simply couldn't replace his little buddy.

Unsettling Development

Wade didn't date much growing up. He esteemed most girls his own age as being way too immature. Maybe that's why he was attracted unto a certain ebony queen. His mom finally approved them dating when he turned 18. They'd been together over a year. Ron's new lady friend threatens his happiness. He checked into her cryptic past, and didn't like what he'd found dialing _**his**_ lady friend.

"What do you have for me, Hot Chocolate?"

"First off, I'm man enough to say I'm sorry".

"For what?" She downplays his fault.

"I thought you were jealin' over another woman putting the moves on Kim's man".

"Well?" She quickly loses patience dancing around the issue.

"Moving on," Wade chuckles, glad to see she wasn't sore. "I checked with Aurora PD in Illinois. The girl's father wasn't just killed in the line of duty. He..."

"I knew that bitch was lying..." She chatters away enumerating her grievances against Indigo.

"Mon," he callers her name three times, each time louder.

"What?" She yells over being interrupted.

"The cloud of suspicion rests on her mom, not Indigo".

"Her mom? Why?"

"It's true, her father was gunned down during a routine traffic stop. His gun never cleared his holster. Aurora PD immediately suspected he knew his murderer and focused their investigation closer to home. Well, they build a circumstantial case against the mom, **Shirley Lynn Ferrara** ".

"What about that redhead skank?"

"Indigo wasn't in town. She was at Super-CDA, a cheerleader camp in Hoffman Estates, IL".

"That homewrecker's a cheerleader, too?"

"Captain of Aurora High School's Varsity Squad".

"What else?" Monique started to like this girl less and less.

"She's active in gymnastics, martial arts, extracurricular activities, even heavily involved in bettering her neighborhood back home, well, before her father's death".

"So, basically, she was the Kim Possible of Aurora, IL".

"I'd say so. Their high school and college transcripts are very similar, minus world saving and her interest in culinary arts. Why do you ask?"

"Wade, call me jealous or conspiratorial. I don't care. Something isn't right about her. My danger senses tingle anytime I'm around Miss Sassy-Hips. She is proportionate with Kim—same height, weight, and size, only a little fuller upstairs, if you know what I mean, plus, she possesses Kim's talents, and Ron's interests. She acted so shy when we first met, but butterflied instantly upon meeting Ron. Isn't that suspicious enough?"

"I'll admit, it's highly unlikely a girl would 'butterfly' around Ron. Kim and Tara did, though".

Monique throws her hands on her hips glaring sideways into the kimmunicator.

Spiraling Accusations

"Even if she did, that still wouldn't explain these recent social media posts popping up all over the net lately," Wade changes the subject fast.

"What posts?"

"Well," Wade gives her more reason to not trust this Indigo, "she drives a gray and black 1978 Chevy Nova. Her distributor went bad. She was almost late for her first day at Smarty Mart. She asked, and Ron gave her rides back and forth this whole week…"

"Don't remind me," Monique grumbles under her breath. "I saw them every morning sputtering along towards Smarty Mart, with her on the back".

Good, she knew that much. He tests the rest, "Did you know they've also traversed Middleton visiting the library, art gallery, movie theaters, local parks, even several restaurants and nightclubs together?"

"Are you positive about that last part, Wade?"

"Ron's credit card statement and/or kimmunicator's GPS signal puts him at or near the exact locations here these social media pics were taken. I realize, these pics could be fake. So, I accessed business, traffic, and other cams roundabout these places. My probing proves, Ron wasn't alone. Indigo was with him. I have proof if you still doubt my thoroughness, My Lady".

"What do these posts say?"

"One photo depicts Kim's headstone inscribed with RIP. The next post reveals how Ron and Indigo met. This blogger even lauds you, as Ron's 'Wing Girl'…"

"Wing girl!" Monique fumes over the implications. It could wreck their friendship, if Kim survives, reads and believes these lies.

"A wing girl is a friend..."

"I know what it means, Lover Boy," she grumbles through gritted teeth, grabs her laptop, and logs into her ISP. "Send me this blog's link". Her computer beeps on the other end. Monique clicks the link. A sultry blog comes up.

Her eyes rake another post, Indigo and Ron's side portraits. The caption underneath read, "Ronald Stoppable trades up, dumping his dying girlfriend and getting a newer, hotter one, and with Km Possible's best friend's approval". It showed a picture of them inside Bueno Nacho. Monique introducing Indigo to Ron with her usual cavalier smile.

Other posts documented them at work, having lunch together, long walks to unwind after work, eating at posh restaurants, even nightclubbing. Each new caption chronicled their deepening love affair. "Tell me you know who's posting this crud".

"Not exactly," Wade wavers under her piercing stare. "Whoever's responsible, he/she is very careful about leaving any digital footprints".

"Tell you what, Playboy. Find out who's responsible and I'll make your ultimate dream come true?" She teases him in a sultry tone.

"My ultimate dream?" His cheeks darken with excitement tinged with embarrassment.

"I'll wear my sexy baby blue Cinderella full length ball gown with open sweetheart neckline, glitter tulle accents, satin blue choker, and matching extra-long satin gloves and headband, and 5-inch clear rhinestone heels. Underneath that, I'll wear a matching sheer mesh see-through babydoll dress".

Wade blushes deeper imagination running wild. They were already sexually active. Monique had never been this adventurous, or insinuated she knew his darkest fantasies. Her knowing him that well only turned him on more. "I'll find them, one way or another, Dear Heart, count on it".

"You do, Brain Boy, and I'll make your wildest dreams come true," Monique disconnects with a seditious smirk. Confident, she'd properly motivated him to find those doing this unto her girl.

Choices and Regrets

Monique wanted to confront that redhead homewrecker _that night_. Civility wins out. She decides she'd wait until the next day. Everyone would be better rested and less temperamental. She wakes up bright and early, 6:00 a.m., breaks out her computer, and checks this elusive blogger's latest post. Her blood boils in under 3-seconds flat. She regretted ever introducing these two.

Monique snaps up her wrist kimmunicator grumbling, "You'd best answer this call, Brain Boy".

"Monique?" Wade yawns, still half-asleep and wearing his blue polka dotted sleep shorts with a pullover t-shirt. Nothing she hadn't already seen his wearing.

"Yea, yea, it's me".

"What's wrong, My Little Coco Angel?"

That pet name usually made her laugh, sometimes even blush. Nothing today. He knew instantly, something was wrong and, whatever it was, tweaked her worse than yesterday.

"Did you find who's posting this garbage yet?"

"Not yet, but I'm close".

"Do you know Ron's work schedule and plans today?"

"Work and dinner at the Possibles at 6:00 p.m. Why?"

"Will his shadow be there, too?"

Wade immediately knew who she meant. "Yes, Indigo will be there. She swapped her afternoon shift with a fellow co-worker's shift so she could attend".

"I'll bet she did," Monique huff, wanting to control this hussy now more than ever.

He discerns her deep animosity towards Ron's new lady friend. Pet names didn't ease their tension. He tries the direct approach, "Monique, what's wrong?"

"Have you checked today's post on that liar's blog?"

"No," Wade wonders what rubbed her the wrong way.

"Well, you should," she huffs with her arms crossed. "It seems, Kim, Bonnie, Tara, me, and a few other local girls entered the oldest profession known to women, and Ron's..." She could even say it aloud, just the very thought turned her stomach. She slams down her cell letting the dial tone say what she couldn't. A lady never speaks about such things, at least not openly.

Wade checked out the blogger's latest post. Indigo and Ron were inside some bar, probably Mexican, based on the surrounding décor. Indigo held a piece of paper sobbing. A line of pictures illustrate her signing and handing Ron back said document, bawling heavier than ever. The caption beneath tread, "Another lost girl follows her friends' example signing with her new Pimp".

"Oh, man, no wonder she's tweaked," Wade debates his choices. Tell Ron, and Monique may never speak to him again. Keep quiet and he'll be tweaked but get over it, eventually, given his forgiving nature. Wade drops the issue. His choice made. He gets busy trying to locate this mysterious blogger, before he/she completely wrecks his budding relationship.

Answer Me This

Monique did a little investigating on her own. She called every man and woman on her gossip line. Given, she couldn't believe half of what they said. At least, it gave her a place to start. No one knew much about the Ferraras. The daughter was shy, well, around everyone, but Ron. The mother, though, was a virtual recluse; never leaving home. One rumor alleged her suffering from agoraphobia.

She did, however, learn something new. Ron was Middleton's Pimp-Daddy. All hookers answered unto him. Middleton PD reopened the case, where Drakken and Shego stole his money. A certain detective had started to question their guilt. She theorized, Ron staged this whole incident to start up his new 'high class call girl' empire. Monique was his newest Madam.

Work couldn't end fast enough. Monique didn't bother clocking overtime. She had more pressing matters. A certain sultry redhead was on her radar. Monique clocked out at exactly 6:00 p.m. She grabs her purse, locks the store, and heads out into the parking lot. She climbs inside her VW Beetle, turns over the ignition, and peels out reaching the Possibles in 10-minutes.

She screeches into the drive throwing her car into park. She notices the van parked across the street, even the camera flash taking her picture. She turns off the ignition, jumps out, and tromps up the front walk, each step heavier than the last, knocking.

Anne Possible answers the door surprised, "Monique, what are you doing here? We..."

"Yea, yea, about to eat," she pushes past the older woman without an invitation.

Anne was so shocked by her abrasiveness. She closes the front door not saying anything, good or bad. She opts to reserve judgment until she knew what this was really about.

Monique marches right up to the dinner table, pulls out a chair, and sits across from Indigo, "Ruby, you and I need to speak candidly".

"Sure, Monique, what about?" Indigo shrugs, sipping her sweet ice tea.

Monique didn't soften the blow, "Are you a prostitute?"

Indigo spews her tea in shock coughing out, "No!" She gasps between breaths clearing her lungs.

"Monique, you have no right..."

"The hell I don't, Snuggles".

"Watch your language, Monique".

"Sorry, Mrs. P".

She turns her attention back towards him, "Anytime something affects my reputation, it affects my bottom line. I've lost three prominent clients in the last two days, which equates to about $200,000 in commission lost. That makes it beyond personal for me, Ron. And it should you, too".

"Noted," he didn't blame her so far. "What's behind this attack then?"

"This is only a discussion, not an attack, Silly Boy," she counters his misconceptions.

"Okay," he gives her the benefit of the doubt, "why are you so tweaked at Indigo?"

"Let me state plainly. I don't blame her directly. It's just this whole sitch revolves around her, somehow, someway, I don't have the answers yet. And only she can answer why".

"What are you talking about, Monique?"

"Let's talk about you becoming Middleton's newest Pimp".

"What? You can't be serious," Ron stutters in shock.

"Serious as a heart attack, Blue Boy," she didn't waver a second.

"Where'd you hear that nonsense?" Indigo couldn't stay quiet any longer.

"Don't believe me? I won't take offense. Have Wade check out that rusty yellow van parked across the road. Cops, I suspect, but who knows? They snapped my photo upon pulling into the Possibles' driveway. I'm willing to bet, they're listening unto this very conversation through a parabolic mic or bug(s) scattered roundabout the Possibles' home".

The Unsettling Truth

"Why would cops be watching my house?"

"What he said?" Ron seconds James Possible question.

"First, let me state my position. I don't believe these lies. Kim's still my best friend. But, a blogger captured some suggestive photos of Indigo and Ron together, at different places around Middleton. In the latest, you two were eating at some nightclub. It seems, she signed…"

"Ah, man," Ron bangs his head on the dining room table.

Indigo vividly remembered that night stating, "Ron paid to have my car fixed. That's all. I signed a repayment agreement. I'd pay him back $40/week until paid in full, and not on my back".

James clears his throat, uncomfortable where this discussion led.

"If I reneged, my car would be his. It was a lien, I swear".

"Well, this blogger captured you signing and handing over _**his**_ contract bawling. Well," she twists around her laptop, "he deduced your becoming Ron's newest prostitute".

Ron only bagged his head harder groaning louder.

"That's idiotic," Indigo shares his disgust.

"I'm afraid the lies only get worse. It's no secret. Middleton P.D.'s has cracked down on teenage prostitution lately. My sources say, several snitches have named Ron as Middleton's top Pimp".

"Oh, Dear God, Kim..."

"I'm afraid so, Mrs. P," Monique confirms her worst fears. " **Sergeant Detective Mariah Warfield** , lead detective heading this crackdown, believes my best friend contracted a venereal disease, while being pimped out by Ron".

"Mr. and Mrs. P, you have to believe..." He loses his temper glowing royal pissed off blue. The very air crackled with raw energy around them.

Indigo backs away in terror. She'd never seen him this furious.

A mighty wind swept over the home's interior. His feet leave the ground. A thousand monkeys' war cry emanated all around them. The house trembled under their ferine vox. Ron starts towards the door. Neither parent doubted his intentions: beat some sense into that cop.

"We believe you, Son," James grabs his hand.

White sockets stare down barely registering his presence. His wrath ebbs. Ron settles back onto the floor sobbing, "I'd never do that...to Kim or any other woman. I just want her back".

Her parents say nothing. Both afraid, a wrong word may set him off again.

Anne groans inwardly, over the mess his temper tantrum created in her dining room and kitchen.

"Boys, find out who's behind this. I don't care how. Let the cops watch me. I've done nothing wrong. They'll eventually go away".

"They're mainly watching me, aren't they, Monique?" The redhead asks with growing concern. She seemed legitimately terrified of something or someone, specifically tied with the police force.

"Indigo, the police are watching us all. This blogger may be one of them or an informant. Who knows? Wade can't say positively that they're only after you. Ron has his own enemies. What really worries us, Ron has few male friends but many female friends.

This blogger could've used any of our pictures to sell these lies. For whatever reason, he/she seems fixated upon you, only using suggestive pics with you and Ron together. We believe, he's done this, because he wishes to isolate you more by alienating whatever new friends you've acquired since moving here. He could seek revenge over some perceived wrong he blames on you. Why do you ask?"

More Than Meets The Eye

"That can only mean they've found us again," Indigo sobs, terrified for her own safety.

"They, who?" Anne asks with growing concern for this young woman's safety.

Indigo shoves her plate aside. She'd lost her appetite. "I didn't tell you the whole truth. My old man was a cop. And he was killed in the line of duty. Truth is, my mom was the lead suspect. Investigators extracted six bloody 350-grain, 12.7-mm .500-S&W Magnum cartridges from his body. There different eyewitnesses reported a Chevy Nova, matching my car's description fleeing his murder".

"Do you believe she did it?" Monique only asked what the rest wondered.

"No," Indigo shakes her head sobbing lightly. "The police recovered oil stains near his murder. I won't debate the possibility of my father's murderer driving a car matching mine's description. My car may be old, but doesn't leak oil, then or now".

"How can you be so sure, Indigo?" Anne poses a legitimate question.

"First, a mechanic replaced my oil pump, the seals, and pan a week earlier. My father's ex-partner, **Colonel Detective Carlos Boyd** , was and still is the driving force behind this witch hunt. He found out my mom was having an affair with my mechanic. They'd been seeing each other for 3-years, even until my dad's death. The mechanic drove a Chevy Nova, too, same year, only a different shade of color.

Hell, he's the one who helped me purchase mine. Boyd became convinced, this mechanic killed my father for my mom. He pulled our cars into police impound. CSI mechanics combed every square inch, inside, out, and under the hood. Their tests conclusively proved, neither car's oil texture and sediment deposits matched the sample from my dad's murder scene. That setback didn't dissuade him.

First, he tried to turn me against my mom sharing his suspicions. I rejected his baseless accusations. He accused me of aiding and abetting, and denounced me as guiltier than my mom. The whole town turned against us overnight. Family, friends, and strangers spat on, slapped, and kicked us wherever we went to town. The incessant whispers became almost unbearable. That wasn't enough.

Even merchants started refusing to sell us everyday supplies, like food, gas for our vehicles, power and heat turned off in dead of winter (by accident, of course), etc. Peer pressure and social ostracization didn't break my spirits. I guess, they'd had enough. Three men broke into my house about a week later beating us mercilessly. That's how mom would up cripple for life. I ripped a sergeant's stripe off one of my attacker's shoulder. I had a good idea who hurt us, but couldn't prove anything.

It was my word against his. I spent 3-days in the ICU, then went back to work. Colonel Boyd paid me a visit giving me one last chance. Relent and testify against my mom, or my situation would only deteriorate. I knew what he meant. We won't survive their next attack. He gave me 3-days to think over his proposal. The clinic discharged my mom the next day. I raced home that night, gathered up what I could, and fled in the middle of the night, never looking back. It'd seem, my tormentors have found me again. Here, Ron," she hands him a list of names with cities beside each.

"What's this?"

"The cities I've lived and different aliases I adopted trying to avoid their detection. Nothing worked. They'd always found us. This blog isn't the first. It's happened in the past. Have your tech friend check out those places. And you'll understand. I regret my troubles have disrupted your lives," Indigo stands up, folds her napkin, and lays it beside her plate. "It's best if I leave". She walks out the front door, gets into her car, cranks up and leaves.

Ron didn't stop her testing a theory. He sits quietly, til hearing her car crank up and back outside the drive. He activates his kimmunicator, "Wade, what'd that van do?"

"The van followed her, Ron".

"Did you identify the driver?"

"You won't like this," Wade wavers, uncertain whether or not he should tell him.

"Just spit it out, Old Buddy".

" **Colonel Detective Carlos 'Two-Story' Boyd** ".

"Isn't he a little out of his jurisdiction?" Monique petitions him, more confused than ever.

"Not any more, Moni," Wade relays the latest reports. "He transferred here last week. It'd seem, our cop has moved around quite a bit lately. Ron, I'll need those cities and aliases ASAP. That way, I can possibly cross-reference those old blogs with this new one and ascertain who'd behind this".

"I'll scan the list into my computer at home. Unfortunately, Kim's spare kimmunicator's doesn't scan documents, Wade".

"What? It should," Wade protests his creation's limitation. Every spy needed to scan documents. That was like James Bond 101, or something.

"Well, it did, but it malfunctioned," Ron clears his throat. He didn't wish to offend Wade by insinuating its malfunction was due to poor craftsmanship.

"I'll get you a replacement kimmunicator, right away," Wade grumbles.

"I could use another, Old Buddy. However, we can worry about that late," Ron had more pressing worries on his mind.

"What's on your mind, Ron?" Wade knew that tone. He'd been around Kim long enough. The blonde boy shifted into 'mission mode'.

He had his opening. That was all Ron needed. "Wade," he delegates their next objectives, "compare that cop's arrival in town with when this Middleton blog first popped up online".

Wade taps away on his keyboard, and only glances up hearing his computer beep. "This blog popped up two days after his arrival. Why do you ask, Ron?"

Monique breaches the gap in their understanding supplicating, "I think Blue Boy's trying to say. He doesn't think Indigo posted those provocative pics of herself and him, nor wrote those ludicrous captions. It'd only expose her location faster. That detective is probably his lead suspect behind this madness".

"I'll get right on him, Ron," Wade signs off.

"Monique, take all necessary precautions to stay safe," Ron cautions the ebony woman. "There's more behind this nonsense than some vengeful partner".

"I can't agree more," Monique pats her purse, assuring him, she'd brought protection.

'A gun?' Ron wonders. Monique never carried a gun in the past. Of course, this could be her way of dealing with what happened to Kim. Now, this strange girl moves into town putting the moves on her 'home girl's' man. He laughs inwardly, while maintaining his outward composure.


End file.
